


Out of anger

by suzunofuu



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:12:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzunofuu/pseuds/suzunofuu
Summary: Sometimes, Nagumo feels like he’s going to be consumed by fire. Maybe he wants to.





	Out of anger

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me in tumblr: @suzunofuu

Lately, everything he does, he does out of anger.

He can’t tell when it all started, when he abandoned himself to this unstopping rage, or where does this fury even come from. He can only guess where it was born, how he seeded it, and who fomented its growth.

It’s all his fault, really. Even if their situation is messed up and the person who’s supposed to look after them only uses them for his own good, it’s Nagumo’s own damn fault that he’s lost himself to a fury he caused and yearned to feel. Anger is all he knows, all he lets himself feel, all he can allow his body to experience to prohibit any other negative sensation in. It’s all he’s ever known. Even before arriving at Sun Garden, anger was all he saw at home, all his loved ones threw at him, all they made him feel.

He performs his first hissatsu out of anger. An argument, a declaration, a dismissal, his temper, Father’s indifference, and suddenly he’s engulfed by flames and burning a hole on the goal’s net with the football he’s kicked.

When he feels the scalding heat gluing to his body, sees the burnt ball at the other end of the field, the net burning, the ashes he’s crated, he smiles to himself, wickedly.

He gets another ball and does the hissatsu again, and again, and once more after.

His clothes burn and so does his skin, his hair, the grass under him, his chest. His insides are ablaze―his mind, his stomach, his lungs, his mouth, his eyes. He wishes it all consumed to the flames he’s summoned. He wishes it all disappeared.

After one of the jumps, he lands badly and ends up on his knees, both of them cracking loudly with the hit, his legs numb and sore. His palms and forehead are sweating, the fire scraping all over his body and digging in the first wounds, drawing out blood.

His hands curl into fists, palms’ skin raw and soft and burning, his entire body is, but he’s– He’s happy. He feels liberated by the consuming flames around him, by the unbearable heat he’s provoked and how it seems to want to extinguish him.

His legs are wobbly and he’s disoriented, but he tries to stand up, a hand on his knee, all of his muscles doing their biggest effort to pull him up, when suddenly he’s hit by a stream of water that covers him whole.

He falls back onto his buttocks, confused, and covers his face with his arms. The stream doesn’t stop until the fire has extinguished and his body’s warmth has lowered at least three degrees to recover its normality. When it stops, he coughs out the water that got into his mouth, upper body thrown forward as if he were going to vomit, which, if they hadn’t smothered the fire, he probably would have.

He doesn’t need to look up to know who’s made sure he didn’t kill himself with the flames. The silent treatment he’s pulling and the blue shoes speak his name louder than Nagumo’s head can. In addition, through the buzzing in his head, the high ringing he hears and the way his limbs are trembling out of control, he hears Suzuno say:

“What the _heck_ are you fucking doing?”

Suzuno gives him no time to answer, as he steps away to suffocate the flames on the grass and goal with the hose he has in hand.

Nagumo breathes in hard―in, out, in, out, stutters out a shaky, desperate huff and pulls his body back until he’s sitting again and can look at Suzuno, who’s already making his way back to him.

He doesn’t know if it’s the water or his own body calling out tears on his eyes, but Nagumo can barely see Suzuno’s face as he approaches. The field is a mess of coal and ashes, everything black and green and brown and Nagumo misses the red, misses the bright orange, the yellow, the occasional blue. He wants– he needs it back, needs– needs to burn.

Suzuno grabs what’s left of his shirt and pulls him up to his feet―rough, unforgiving, as mad as he has never been with him―throws one of Nagumo’s arms around his shoulders and starts walking to one of the many corridors of the academy.

Nagumo’s subconscious knows he’s being taken to the nursery, that the trembling of his limbs isn’t only his, but Suzuno’s too, his hands grabbing onto him so tight it hurts worse than any of the fire he ignited with. He sees blurry, can’t make out where he is or which turns they’re taking, his senses disabled and completely disoriented.

He spends three days on one of the nursery’s beds, drifting in and out of sleep, his injuries stinging and burning and aching as they proceed to wound up, the medicine draining the energy out of him. Suzuno stays by one of the chairs all throughout the three days, looking out the window because he’s too mad to stare at him, knackered, worried deep to the core of his bones, unable to leave for a second.

Nagumo can barely comprehend what’s going on, but he feels Suzuno’s presence near, and even if his life seems to be cracking and twisting and knotting in every imaginable way and place, it calms him. Suzuno’s presence always soothes him.

On the fourth day, he wakes up lucid, cured and hungry, incredibly hungry since he’s been fed through a tube the whole time and his stomach is empty. The doctor discharges him after giving him indications on how to take care of the wounds, how often he has to take the pills and put cream on, how often he has to stop by the nursery so she can check on him. He nods at her and makes his way outside slowly, the crutches making it impossible for him to move freely.

Suzuno’s right outside the door, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed – hair a mess, eyes baggy, red and averting him.

He walks up to him, embarrassed, guilty, and prods at his calf with his plastered feet. Suzuno puts his leg back and away from him, spits out, “what were you _thinking_.”

 _I wasn’t_ , Nagumo wants to answer, wants to say: _I wanted to disappear, wanted to leave this place_. Instead, he mutters, “don’t know.”

Suzuno sighs, tired and bothered, and without Nagumo expecting it, wraps his arms around him, holding him tighter than his body can endure. He lowers his head and hides his face on Suzuno’s shoulder, relieved to be able to touch him, the terrifying sensation that he might have scared Suzuno off or pushed him all the way out of his life vanishing into nothingness.

He’s been burning for months, now. He’s been being consumed by his life, and having Suzuno and his friends by his side is the only reason he hasn’t drifted away into the void yet. “You’re an idiot,” Suzuno mumbles, fingers sprawled on his back and arms enveloping him as much as they can. Nagumo nuzzles against him, nods, a pang of guilt hitting deep in his stomach due to Suzuno’s worry.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, throwing one of the crutches carelessly against the wall so he can wrap his arm around Suzuno, pushing him in closer, making Suzuno’s arms fasten tighter on him.

“You better be,” Suzuno huffs, threading his fingers through Nagumo’s hair. He looses his grip on him and pushes back to look at him. Nagumo hates that he’s made him miss his sleep, that he was so worried he couldn’t even leave the room. He’s also embarrassingly glad that Suzuno cares about him.

Suzuno pushes his hair out of his face, fingers gentle as they brush against his cheek and behind his ear. He’s dead serious, terrified, when he says, “don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Nagumo tries to offer a smile. Suzuno presses their foreheads together, and– Nagumo was scared, too. Even if he wanted to disappear, wanted to escape, wanted to vanish off the surface of the Earth, he was terrified he’d actually be devoured by his hurt, his rage, his ache. Suzuno kisses him shortly, anxious, relieved, and hugs him again, petting his back.

Lately, everything Nagumo’s done, he’s done out of anger. He’s never known another way, has never known how to deal with life without burning himself out in the process.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips to Suzuno’s clavicle, tightening his grip on him. Even if he’s been consumed by wrath in the past months, he thinks he’s also lived through the rage thanks to love. He leads his team out of love for his friends, has stayed in the academy instead of running away out of love for his mates, has found his way into Suzuno’s life out of love.

Maybe, if he tries, if he teaches himself how, he can unlearn to act out of anger, and start to act out of love. Maybe he can do that, not for him, but for everyone he cares about.

He presses another kiss to Suzuno’s shoulder, seals the silent promise, and feels Suzuno relax between his arms. This, he knows, is more than he needs to keep his promise―more than he even deserves. And he’s glad. He will always be glad.


End file.
